


The deal

by alinewrites



Category: Drake's Venture (1980)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 21:00:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alinewrites/pseuds/alinewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas has a possessive, jealous and dangerous lover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The deal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shimere277](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shimere277/gifts).



It was the middle of January. I had found myself a nice man for the night. Older, strong, educated, a teacher at the Geneva University and I intended to make the best of him.

I disentangled myself from him regretfully to open the door and drop my keys on the low table of the hall. The house was brilliantly lit up. I had asked the cleaning lady to leave the lights on. There is nothing I hate like coming back at night in a dark house.

I was about to resume the interrupted kiss when the lights went out. Not just went out. Flickered for a moment, and went out. One by one, until it was absolutely dark. The fire in the chimney died to with a sad whistle and I heard the echo of a voice in my head. "Hi baby."

I turned to my companion. "Run." I said.

He looked stunned. "What? But we just…"

"Run as fast as you can. My boyfriend is home and he means business."

"How do you know…"

"I know. Run. Take the car." I handed him the key. I thought he would protest but catching my reflection in the mirror I saw my face, so pale it looked spectral. Or maybe the stifling quality of the silence in the room was enough to warn him of the reality of the danger. He took a step forward, looking scared suddenly, and ran out. The door slammed behind him and locked by itself with an ominous sound.

"Stop this," I said coolly. "It is ridiculous. We never promised…"

A strong wind started to blow, scattering the letters piled on the table, shaking the curtains, howling across the hall. Resigned to a scene I took off my coat, grabbed a bottle of scotch and walked up the stairs to the main bedroom. Its door remained closed most of the time, except when he was back – once or twice a year, never much more. I pushed it open and there he was, sitting on the bed, his expression stony.

"Fine," I said. "Can I have some light now?"

His eyes were shining, his skin alabaster white. He was dressed in the customary jeans and leather, his hair shorter than last summer, a beard instead of his usual stubble. Apart from that he looked his usual, unsympathetic, brutal self. The light did not come back.

He rose slowly from the bed and walked towards me. "How many men did you fuck since I last saw you?"

I sighed. "Is it important?"

"It is to me."

I shook my head. "I don't know. Really. I mean… It never lasts long."  
"Really? How many, Thomas? Two? Ten? Fifty? One hundred?"

He extended his hand and touched me. His fingers were ice cold– when he had been a rock star, he had taken up wearing gloves – now I knew why. He ran them along my cheek and suddenly he hit me. Hard. I felt blood trickle down my mouth and knew what was going to happen. Panic blinded me. I ran.

The house he bought me in Gstaadt is huge, three storeys and a basement, unused rooms, a huge ceiling, endless corridors. I ran until I was breathless, pushed the open door of the ceiling, stumbled on a carpet, bumped into an old trunk. Shaking, I crouched behind one of them. I hated that he could to that to me; scare me so helplessly.

I waited as he looked for me, my heart beating so fast that my chest was aching. He was methodical. I had no idea what I hoped for. That he would give up? Not bloody likely. That he would have time to calm down? Doubtful. That I would manage to find a way and stop him? I did not really want to stop him, now did I? I was in the craving period. I wanted him so badly it hurt and I knew that it would not stop. I had been aware of that when I had picked up my one-night lover. I had known he would not be able to give me what I needed. Only when my life would turn to a dull boring succession of days and night would I know some peace and that sort of peace meant sinking into the darkest depression one can imagine. Apathy. Death maybe. The vampire must have felt from wherever he was that it was the right time. My timing had been wrong

I heard him open the doors on the lower floor one by one. Then his heavy boots in the wooden ceiling stairs and I bolted, trying to surprise him and fly – I was locked in his embrace and pushed back, thrown down on an old mattress and pinned there. He was growling in hunger and rage, tearing my clothes off me. "Disobedient bastard," he said. "I cannot leave you alone…"

He did not finish. I was naked and his gaze was roaming over my shaking body. He was still dressed. The hands holding me felt like ice as he brought them down on my thighs, parting them open. "I'm going to give you what you need. No one else can do that for you."

His cold lips roamed over my belly, carefully avoiding my hardening cock, while he stroked the inside of my thighs with his thumb. Bending over my groin, he blew his cold breath over my skin and I shout out. His hands heavy on my thighs he lowered his head and bit hard, piercing the femoral artery. The pain made my scream; I felt blood spurting out from the wound and I thought, "I am going to die." Then I sunk into pleasure and I came hard, harder than I had come in those last six months. I came, yelling his name and cursing him, trying to escape and lifting my hips, finally giving him into the madness of the vampire's kiss.

When he was done, I was shaking. He pressed his lips against the wound and it healed immediately. I have no idea how he does that. I do not think he does either.

I started to drift away, my eyes closing, and he gathered me in his arms. He was warm now, his skin rough against mine and he laughed. "You've been a bad boy," he said, stroking my chest, kissing my shoulder, my neck and finally my lips. "I should be angry."

I smiled and wanted to say something but my voice failed me. It was cold in the room. I started to shiver. I felt consciousness elude me and slid into darkness.

I woke up in a wide bed, buried under blankets and eiderdowns, my head on a feather pillow. Without opening my head I tried to gather some clues. That was not Gstaadt; I did not hear a single sound and Gstaadt at this time of the year is a hive. The air was dry and cool. I heard the cracking of a fire and its warmth almost reached me. The room smelled of coffee and fresh buns. I was hungry.

Opening my eyes at last I recognized the small house he had in the mountains in the middle of the woods. A fairy tale house, really, tiny and secluded. I was in the bedroom where a fire burnt high in the chimney. The coffee maker whispered on the bed table and I saw buns wrapped in a thick cloth. The blinds were closed and the pale daylight reached me through the hearts cut out in the wooden blinds. I even heard the soft ticking of the Swiss clock in the main room.

I poured out some coffee, added a lot of sugar and started wolfing the buns down. My clothes were folded on the chair but I felt no desire to get up. I turned on my side. A glance at the watch on the chair had told me that it was already the middle of the afternoon. He must have gone skiing. Heavy clouds hid the sun; the day was grey and darkening. The perfect conditions for a vampire, of course.

He would be back at night.

Again, dizziness took me. I drank some more coffee and I closed my eyes.

It was dark already when the entry door creaked open and freezing air crept under the bedroom door. "Close the fucking door!" I yelled and I heard him yell something back.

At last he barged in, shaking the snow from his hair, wearing a thick woollen sweater and ski trousers. He threw his gloves on the chair and sat on the bed. "Wonderful snow. Had a great time. Will you come skiing tomorrow?"

I wanted to. I loved the place; I loved skiing. Only when I tried to get up I felt very weak.

"I bought meat and cheese. Cured ham. Potatoes. Other things you like. I'll put the cheese to melt. Right?"

I nodded and lay back. Perversely I wanted him again. He felt it, shook his head. "No."

I stretched in the bed. "Just sex then," I said.

He narrowed his eyes and nodded. "Just sex."

It took him no time to disrobe and he was on me in the second, kissing me everywhere, biting me softly, drawing droplets of blood that he licked hungrily, sucking down on my skin. Crawling down my body he reached my cock and took it in his mouth, letting it slide down his throat. He was, I realized, very warm and the meaning of that hit me like a punch in the guts. Pulling out I sat on the bed as he groaned in annoyance.

"What?"

I looked at him. "You did not harm him, did you?"

"What are you talking about?" he asked, grabbing me, kissing me.

I pushed him back. "The man I was with yesterday… Tell me you did not harm him."

"Oh, him," he said, yawning, his eyes narrowed and very blue. "He had an unfortunate accident. Poor guy."

His voice was cold and indifferent.

I pulled away. "I thought we had an agreement. You would take it out on me, not on them."

"I have never been good with promises," he said, looking at me. "I let anger have the better of me."

"Frank," I said. "You killed him."

"I just scared him and the car slid on ice and he… Ah, OK, I killed him Sucked him dry. Burnt the car. OK?"

I felt sick suddenly.

"Stop fooling around, Thomas," he said. "It's entirely your fault."

I remembered what he had done to me all those centuries ago, when he had been Francis Drake. I knew him for what he was – violent, greedy and selfish, with no scruples at all. Barely more than a thug. A clever one. An immortal one now.

"Do you intend to kill every man I fuck?" I asked.

"If it is what it takes to keep you in line, I guess I will."

I thought about it. It had been fifteen years now since we had first met. Since that day I had come to his dressing-room after the show and he had chatted me up, invited me for dinner and finally taken me to his suite where he had fucked me senseless. And bitten me. Bastard. After that he had left and my ordeal had begun.

"What do you want, Sir Francis?" I asked.

He smiled. "The same thing I ever wanted, Thomas. You. Exclusivity. No other man."

"What if I refuse?"

He shrugged. "How many men will you sentence to death before we find an agreement?"

"Are you faithful?" I asked coldly.

His eyes shone briefly. "It is different for me."

"It is always different for you, isn't it? You want obedience and faithfulness and submission but you are not giving anything in return."

He laughed and straddled me, running his fingers over my skin. "I give you the best orgasms you will ever know. I give you as much money as you want and I never ask how you spend it. Clothes, books, cars. Besides, it has been a long time now and you do not look a minute over twenty five – which was your age the first time we met. What more do you want?"

I looked into his eyes, trying to find the soul beyond. "Freedom of choice? Had you asked me that first time rather than taking me by surprise, I would probably be more amenable. Instead of that, it was more like a rape, wasn't it? I do not like it."

He lowered his head and nibbled at my skin. "It was a mistake. I was drunk. I said I was sorry already. But there is no way I can change it back."

I was not certain I wanted him to change anything but the lack of consideration still stung. I looked away.

_"He is a vampire," Jodie had said. "You should be careful."_

_I had pretended to know what vampires were – eerie, elegant, mysterious creatures of the night. Frank Draken, hard rock singer, solid man who looked around thirty, was as real as you could imagine and he had nothing of a vampire._

_"Just because he sings a song called 'bare your throat' it should make it true? Just because he shouts it out should convince me? Come on, Jodie, where is your critical mind gone?"_

_She had shaken her head. "He is," she had still said. "I can feel it in my bones. Don't come telling me I didn't warn you."_

_"Well, being a vampire is not against the law and no one ever complained about him."_

"Your choice," Frank said, kissing me softly. "I could still lock you in the basement of my house and use you when I feel like it."

It was wrong to feel so excited by such a fantasy. The bastard knew me well.

"Don't even think of it," I said.

He stroked my cock. "I do though."

I lay back and he pinned me to the bed, his hands around my wrists, rubbing against me. "I would fit out the basement in London. Tie you to the bed with a long chain so you can move. Or not." He bit me on the shoulder and licked the blood, his tongue raspy against my skin. "I would allow you books, but no phone and no computer. I would bathe you, dress you up. Fuck you. Whip you like I do sometimes when we play. Drink your blood every night. You would be my slave."

Reaching out he retrieved the lube, coated his cock with it, and entered me roughly. "Would you like it?" he asked. "Being my slave? Being tied up and hurt all the time? You would become mad fast enough, I think. You would beg me to set you free…"

I moaned. He was thrusting hard inside me and although he did not have the ability to come I knew he loved it. Loved the power it gave him over me. The sweet friction. My own delirious pleasure. His cock hit my prostate deliberately and suddenly he stopped moving. "Beg me," he said.

"Please. Please, finish it."

"I shall. You beg so prettily."

I moaned in delight when he started moving again. Pleasure built slowly inside me but when it reached my cock, it was almost unbearable, taking my breath away and making me scream. He bit my throat softly and drank, only for a couple of seconds, careful of not exhausting me, and I lost it, writhing on the bed, begging him.

Later, as we lay entangled, I said, "If I agree, will you make a promise and keep it?"

He nodded solemnly. "Yes."

"Don't turn me into a vampire. Whatever happens. Give me a choice."

He looked at me, frowning, his gaze serious, his expression solemn. "I promise."

Of course, he was not really the kind to keep a promise – he had promised a lot before I died, the first time at San Julian. Protect my brother, for example. I laughed shakily. "Do you?"

"Yes. I am not who I used to be. I shall keep my word."

I closed my eyes. "I agree then. I shall stay with you. I shall be faithful."

He gave me a sweet smile and kissed me, pressing against me. After a moment, he rose from the bed with a brilliant childish smile of happiness. "Melted cheese and meat it is, then."


End file.
